“I am,” he admitted, following me at an easy pace, sunlight catching in his nearly silver hair. “I won’t lie, I came after you. I’m not slippery enough to pretend.” Arun did seem to have little appetite for the games the Elven Lords played. “I wanted to talk to you. And also ask about Atkus. I don’t understand why he keeps returning.”
I stopped. “You don’t want him here?”
He shrugged. “I like it when he comes, but I’m not so offended that he left. If I were him, I would see no reason to visit. I’ve told him that many times.”
My brows lifted in feigned surprise. “I heard the Elven Lords wouldn’t agree to an invitation if Finn wasn’t here.”
His brows twitched. I couldn’t tell whether it was confirmation or denial.
“Yesterday, Eldar said that he needs Finn here,” I murmured. “Why?”
He stepped closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head to meet his eyes. “My Lords like to keep their families close.”
“They seem to care, even if they won’t help him,” I said. “I suppose your Lords don’t have enough reason to help us.”
I circled past him, skirting the edge of the woods. The trees cast cool shadows, hiding us from the sun and the palace entrance.
Arun reached me a breath later. “Banfgaard has avoided open conflict with the Order for a long time. Allying with you would create more problems than it would solve.”
I stopped and leaned one shoulder against a trunk. “So you would rather remain at their mercy?”
“I didn’t say we are at their mercy,” he replied. “And if we were, why would we make it worse?”
I frowned. They never claimed their people were safe, but they acted as though they didn’t have to worry.
“What are you to the Mage Lord?” he asked, smoothly changing the topic.
The question caught me off guard. “His emissary.”
“Only that?” His gaze dipped, then returned to mine. “Because from that dance, I would say you are more.”
“Reagan cares for me as he does for all his staff.”
“I have never seen him dance with Atkus like that,” Arun said.
An idea occurred to me, one I instinctively disliked. But they were omitting things. They had changed the topic so many times this morning that it was obvious. This might be one way to move our agenda forward.
“Your boldness knows no bounds,” I said, smirking.
A low chuckle came from him. “So if I asked you to dance again, and kissed you there”—he gestured to my neck—“and everywhere else, he wouldn’t fight me?”
My pulse stuttered. I took Arun in properly this time. The braids falling loose around his face, the elegant taper of his ears.
I smiled, and he stepped closer.
“No,” I said, retreating until my back met the trunk. I brought my hands behind me, fingers brushing the pocket there. “He wouldn’t fight you. That doesn’t mean I would let you.”
Arun braced one hand against the tree beside my head while I tucked my hairpin into a strand of hair behind my ear. “Wouldn’t you?” he asked with a warrior’s confidence.
I shrugged one shoulder, feeling the pressure tighten at my throat. My fingers found the end of one of his braids and wound around it lightly.
“Why won’t Eldar and Iqbal spy on Madden for us?” I asked.
His gaze dropped to my mouth. “You will have to ask them.”
At last, he reached for my hair, his fingers threading through it, brushing my scalp—and the truth-telling hairpin together. I let him continue, tilting my head as I smoothly slid the hairpin free again. I lifted a hand to his braid, pretending to toy with it as the hairpin caught one of the tresses.
Arun cleared his throat, and I wet my lips deliberately, hoping he wouldn’t notice the subtle pressure on his throat.
